


Apt Pupil

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip and T'Pol are always learning something from each other. (10/06/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Contest entry for Quills Romantic T/T Challenge. My artists training paid off here, with a little help from Gray's Anatomy for the spelling. If anyone is dying to know exactly what T'Pol was scrutinizing, you can go here: www.bartleby.com/107/illus385.html and here: www.bartleby.com/107/illus392.html  


* * *

Doctor Phlox had ordered them straight into Decon. Neither Commander Tucker nor Sub-Commander T'Pol had slept for over 24 hours. They'd been caught in one hell of a rain storm on the planet for nearly 16 hours without shelter. While there didn't appear to be any adverse effects, the good doctor hadn't wanted to take any chances. He'd immediately escorted their wet, cold and cranky selves to Sickbay the instant they'd disembarked from the shuttle. Not even the captain could override the Doctor's orders.

T'Pol had chosen to remain standing in the corner of the little room, letting Commander Tucker have the bench. He was in one of the most foul moods she'd ever seen and had every intention of leaving him alone. As it was, she surmised, she wouldn't have much opportunity to sit anyway. The Chief Engineer was sprawled on his back across the bench, one hand tucked behind his head while the other made aimless geometric designs on his bare torso. His legs stretched out from either side of the bench. Occasionally he'd expel an overdramatic sigh over the hum of the lights to express his displeasure with being trapped in Decon once again.

Sinking to a squatting position against the wall, T'Pol's attention was focused on this human. Biologically similar to Vulcan physique, Mr. Tucker was still different. His frame was larger, bulkier. He appeared to be in excellent physical condition as she could see every muscle exposed to her. Idly she listed the names of the muscles in her head to keep from falling asleep. She struggled with some of the English names, such as sternocleidomastoideus, trapezius, and pectoralis major. T'Pol noted his latissimus dorsi was quite well-defined, and his obliquus externus abdominis appeared smooth and taut. Her scrutiny trailed down his Crest of Ilium, that ridge on his hip that disappeared under his blue briefs. Her eyes fell on the bulge there.

"The view must be a pretty good one," the engineer drawled, snapping T'Pol out of her study. She looked up to find his eyes locked on hers, a grin spreading across his face.

"I was reviewing Human anatomy," she said lamely and looked away.

"Oh really?" Trip said. He was still smirking.

T'Pol cocked her head and glared at him. "I was naming muscles of the body in my head. It was just an exercise to keep my mind occupied in order to stay awake."

"You were lookin' at my...stuff," Trip countered, glancing down at his waist. He remained reclined, though the hand on his stomach had stilled.

"I beg your pardon?" she replied, lifting an eyebrow in disdain.

"Curious?" he leered back at her.

"As a matter of fact," said T'Pol, "it _is_ curious."

Trip narrowed his eyes at her. "What is?" She'd lost him already. He hated it when she did that.

Her eyes swept down his body again, stopping without shame at his groin. "The human male," said T'Pol simply.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Trip asked. He usually didn't mind a woman sizing him up, but the way T'Pol was looking at him began to make him slightly uncomfortable.

"It's curious how...external...males of your species are," she explained. "I've found that many males of varying species native to Earth are not as...hung...as humans are."

"Vulcan men don't have...the same equipment?" He was finding this conversation quite unsettling. Although Trip wasn't sure where this was going, he was intrigued nonetheless.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at his response. "Of course they do," she said. "However, the penis of the Vulcan male retracts up into the body when not in use in an evolutionary protective measure against the harsh desert climate. Vulcan males also have two testes in a scrotal structure that is close to the body, not pendulous, and a prostatic body that produces and stores seminal fluid."

Trip blinked. That was more than he wanted to know. He said as much.

"I didn't really need to know all that, T'Pol."

"You asked, Commander."

Nodding, Trip mumbled, "Yes...I did."

They stared at each other for a moment before another grin spread across Trip's face. "You've never seen one, have you?" he asked, sitting up.

It was T'Pol's turn to be uncomfortable. Eyebrow lifted and head cocked she said, "Seen what?" She stood and crossed her arms over her chest in an involuntary defensive posture, leaning against the bulkhead.

"On a human," Trip said. He couldn't bring himself to use clinical vocabulary. Instead he stood up to face her and pulled the waistband of his briefs out. "Wanna peek?"

He was making fun of her, T'Pol realized. She narrowed her eyes at him. She suspected he thought she'd decline. Refusing to allow him the satisfaction of being correct she casually strode over to him and cast her gaze downward into his briefs. T'Pol raised an eyebrow and looked back up at his face. His expression, she decided, was an expectant one. If she hadn't been so exhausted she may not have done what she did next. T'Pol placed her hand over Trip's and tugged his briefs out a bit more. She peered down into the gap for a better look.

"Hm," she grunted and looked back up at him. T'Pol was pleased to see him scowl at that. She had just taken the upper hand from him.

"What's that mean?" Trip asked indignantly. He snapped his briefs back and stood with his hands on his hips. After several moments of glaring at each other, Trip finally sank to the bench. "Alright, alright...I'll bite. Obviously you're not impressed."

T'Pol sat next to him on the bench. Looking down at her knees, she replied, "I find the general shape and form of the human male to be quite.....pleasing, aesthetically. Strong and sturdy in musculature, the contours of your body are more angular than a female's. It gives the impression of virility, hardiness." She paused and cast a sidelong glance at him before continuing. "And then you have these...things...out in the open. Fragility in the center of might. It seems out of place and takes away from the efficiency of the rest of the body. It's certainly not congruous with the rest of you."

"Incongruous?" he asked.

"The body, whether Human or Vulcan, is quite a...beautiful machine," answered T'Pol. "As I said, angled and chiseled musculature on a sturdy solid form, each working with the others around it to achieve maximum efficiency."

"An' then there's the ol' twig an' berries danglin' there," Trip finished. He chuckled in spite of himself. "I see where you're goin' with this. There's nothin' masculine about somethin' so vulnerable, right?"

"Something like that," T'Pol replied. "It is not as visually pleasing as the rest of the body."

Trip swung his left leg around so he was straddling the bench facing her. He narrowed his eyes at her again, trying not to smile. "Incongruous?" he repeated. At her slight nod he continued. "Y'know, I can see that. In the flaccid state I can see where it'd be considered...outta place. But once it gets hard, I'd say it's right in line with the rest of the body. I don't think it was really designed for showin' off anyway."

"Indeed," was all T'Pol said. She gave his form an appreciative look before reverting her eyes to her knees again. She didn't see his full-blown grin.

"I never had any complaints," Trip shrugged. "Besides, once it gets to that point it's more what you do with it anyway."

"Perhaps," said T'Pol noncommittally.

Trip sighed and crossed his arms. "What's that mean? Size _does_ matter now?"

"It is in the best interest for the female to orgasm," T'Pol said. "Once the male has ejaculated, the contractions of her vaginal walls will draw the semen up into the channel in order for conception to occur. If the male has a larger phallus, the seminal pool will be closer to this channel. Perhaps it would be easier to make the female climax with a larger penis."

"You certainly have a way with words, T'Pol."

"Thank you."

After a minute of silence Trip asked, "So, you're not this clinical all the time are you?"

Turning slightly to face him she said, "Of course not."

Trip nodded. He couldn't resist an appreciative glance of his own up her body. "Now that I've had my sex lessons about Vulcan men, what about the women?"

"What about them?"

"C'mon, T'Pol," Trip said exasperated. "You've been studyin' me since we got locked in here. The least you can do is humor me a bit. Anything...different about you?"

She bit her bottom lip and focused on the bulkhead in front of her. "Nothing overt, as you no doubt have noticed by now."

"Uh-huh. I've, um...noticed," he stammered. Trip found a sudden interest in his hands. "What about...erogenous zones?"

"You're having great difficulty asking what you want to ask," T'Pol noted. It amused her and she didn't bother to hide it.

Trip swept his hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head. He sighed and said quietly, "I feel like a goddamn pervert if I ask." He looked up at her sheepishly.

She studied his face for a moment before they both averted their eyes at the same time. T'Pol took a deep breath. "Vulcan women are similar in build to Human females. The internal reproductive system differs somewhat, but the...external parts...are almost identical."

"Almost?" he asked, still focused on his hands.

The comm. on the wall squawked and Doctor Phlox's voice drifted into the small chamber. "Commanders, your time is up. You may exit now."

The hum ceased as the blue decontamination lights were turned off. The two senior officers remained seated on the bench, cautiously exchanging glances.

"I showed you mine," Trip challenged quietly. A smile tugged at his mouth.

"You _offered_ to show me yours," she countered and pinned him with a stare.

"I wanna find out what 'almost' means," he said with a grin. Trip stood and started for the door.

T'Pol followed him. He pressed a button and the door whooshed open to the outer changing room.

"I've been having plumbing problems in the lavatory in my quarters," she said, breezing past Trip. "Perhaps you can send someone to my cabin for repairs this evening."

"Sounds like a problem for the Chief Engineer," Trip replied, following her out. "I'll see if he's willin' to lend a hand."


End file.
